


Call and Response

by TheNarator



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Abuse of Power, BDSM, Coming Untouched, Conditioning, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Phone Sex, Punishment, Unhealthy Relationships, but that's what he's passing it off as, playing without a safeword, which is not technically bdsm because that's just straight-up abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cisco is at a conference and has phone sex with his boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call and Response

**Author's Note:**

  * For [checkerboardom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkerboardom/gifts), [GreenSorceress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSorceress/gifts).



> based on ideas from both checkerboardom and greensorceress

When Cisco finally got back to his hotel room, late and exhausted, at first he could do nothing but slump against the door. He slid down to the floor with a bump, his bag hitting the ground and then sliding off his shoulder. He let his eyes fall closed, breathing deeply, letting some of the tension bleed out of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ like _ being sent to conferences to present STAR Labs’ latest achievements to the greater scientific community, it was just that it was so very, very tiring.

Eventually Cisco opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. He winced when he saw that it was nearly ten; he was almost two hours late. Gingerly, as though it might explode at any moment, he dug his phone out of his pocket and opened his contacts.

The first three rings were absolutely agonizing. Scenario after scenario spun through his head, each one worse than the last. What if he’d gone to bed? What if he was angry? What if he was deliberately ignoring Cisco, and Cisco would have to spend the rest of the conference without so much as hearing his-

“Hello?” said a familiar voice on the other end of the line, and Cisco breathed a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Wells,” he replied, reflexively bowing his head. “I’m glad you’re still awake, I-”

“You’re late,” Dr. Wells observed. He sounded neither happy nor unhappy, neither angry nor tired; it was simply an observation.

Cisco swallowed. “Yes, Sir,” he said demurely, trying to seem apologetic without sounding nervous.

“I was worried about you,” Dr. Wells went on, and Cisco did think he detected a note of concern in his boss’s voice.

His stomach twisted, guilt settling over him like a stone on his chest. He had no right to make Dr. Wells worry.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s just that people kept asking me to keep talking about our inventions over drinks-”

“You’ve been drinking?” Dr. Wells interrupted, his tone going hard.

“No!” Cisco corrected hurriedly. “No, I wasn’t drinking, but I thought it would be rude to refuse to talk to them, and then I couldn’t think of how to end the conversation, and-”

“Cisco,” Dr. Wells’ voice cut through his babbling, centering him once more in the moment. The reason he was late was immaterial. What mattered right now was that he had broken a rule.

“My instructions were very simple, Cisco,” Dr. Wells said placidly. “You were to call me by eight o’clock. What time is it?”

“Ten, Sir,” Cisco said ashamedly.

“Mhm,” Dr. Wells hummed from the other end of the line. “Two hours seems like a fairly grievous oversight, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Sir,” Cisco wouldn’t have dared disagree even if he didn’t know it was true. He’d failed, and he knew what came next.

“Lucky for you I was still awake,” Dr. Wells told him. “I can conduct your punishment now, instead of tomorrow when you need to focus on the conference.”

Cisco shuddered. He’d hoped that maybe punishment could wait until he was back in Central City, but apparently it was going to happen now. Normally punishments were something Dr. Wells could get off to but Cisco couldn’t; his punishments were for the older man’s amusement first and foremost. He couldn’t imagine what Dr. Wells was planning to do to him over the phone.

“Thank me for that, Cisco,” Dr. Wells instructed.

“Thank you for waiting up for me, Sir,” Cisco said obediently.

“Good boy,” Dr. Wells said, and Cisco shuddered again. He loved it when the older man called him that.

“What are you wearing?” he went on.

“Uh,” Cisco blinked. That was not a question he had been expecting. “The suit you picked out for me?” Suddenly something occurred to him. “I called you as soon as I got back, I promise!”

“I know you did,” Dr. Wells assured him soothingly. “Take the jacket off, but leave the rest of it on.”

Awkwardly, as he still had to hold the phone, Cisco stood and did as he was told. He hung the jacket on the hook near the door.

“Done,” he said.

“Good,” Dr. Wells said. “Nutmeg.”

Cisco gasped and leaned against the door, his whole body quivering as a dozen images ran through his mind. Dr. Wells fucking him on his knees, his larger body draped over Cisco’s smaller one. Being held open by his thighs as Dr. Wells took him roughly and without mercy. The sensation of being tied to the bed blindfolded, a clothespin on one nipple and Dr. Well’s mouth torturing the other. Cisco let out an embarrassing breathy sound as his body reacted to the memories, his nipples hardening, a blush creeping down his neck and his cock fattening up inside his slacks.

He wasn’t surprised by the conditioned response. He understood basic pavlovian theory, and they’d spent weeks before the conference creating the association. What shocked him was the violence of his body’s response when Dr. Wells wasn’t even in the room, his training kicking in even when the actual stimulus was hundreds of miles away. Clearly he’d underestimated the power of classical conditioning.

Dr. Wells, on the other hand, had not.

“Do not touch yourself,” he said sharply, and it was only then that Cisco realized his free hand had been straying down his body to take hold of his dick. He snatched his hand back, embarrassed, and waited for the next command.

“Tell me how you feel,” Dr. Wells ordered.

Cisco’s face grew even hotter than it had been before. “My-” he stuttered, then swallowed and tried again. “My cock’s hard. My nipples are peaked. I feel hot all over. I . . .”

“Yes,” Dr. Wells prompted.

“I want you so bad,” Cisco confessed. He knew it was pointless, Dr. Wells was too far away, but all he wanted in the world was to feel the older man’s hands on him. He wanted to be touched and teased, gripped and held down, put into position and physically forced to stay there.

There was also the fact that he wasn’t allowed to come without Dr. Wells’ permission, and given that this was a punishment, he doubted that that would be happening any time during his trip.

“Excellent,” the tone Dr. Wells’ voice more than made up for the fact that Cisco couldn’t see his smirk. “All our hard work has paid off.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” Cisco replied. Looking down his body he could see the little spot of wetness on the tent in his pants. He needed to get them off soon, or they’d be ruined.

“Sir,” he began tentatively, “can I-”

“Get on the bed,” Dr. Wells instructed. “Do not remove your clothes.”

Cisco obeyed, climbing onto the large hotel bed and kneeling in the center of the mattress. “Okay,” he said, then struck by a sudden boldness went on, “I’m on my knees for you.”

“Being coquettish will get you nowhere,” Dr. Wells informed him.

Cisco lowered his eyes, then belated realize Dr. Wells couldn’t see it. “Sorry,” he tried instead.

“You are forgiven,” Dr. Wells said easily. “Now, take a pillow and place it between your thighs.”

Confused but too aroused to care much, Cisco did as he was told. The hotel pillows were big and firm, and when he placed one between his legs it put a delicious pressure on his cock. Cisco rolled his hips unconsciously, then immediately stopped himself. He hadn’t been told to do that.

Then Dr. Wells surprised him. “Rock your hips,” he instructed. “Grind your cock on the pillow.”

Tentatively Cisco began to work his hips, rubbing himself on the fabric and cotton. He soon discovered why this was a punishment; between the clothes he still wore and the softness of the pillow the stimulation was just shy of enough, teasing with no hope of satisfaction. It was maddening feeling that glorious friction on his cock, chasing a more intense sensation but unable to press any harder.

He was whining breathily into the phone, and after several minutes a particularly loud moan was met with a dark chuckle.

“How does that feel?” Dr. Wells asked.

“G-good,” Cisco panted, “but, it’s not enough! I need more!”

“You  _ want _ more,” Dr. Wells corrected. “If I left you like this for a few hours, or even told you to keep going until you fell asleep, you’d be perfectly fine. You’d be panting for it by the time you got home, but you’d be fine.”

“Please,” Cisco begged, hips still working rhythmically, “don’t.”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t leave you with your little tease until morning,” Dr. Wells invited, “and maybe I’ll think about not doing just that.”

Cisco concentrated, trying to force his brain to work through the haze of arousal. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home?” he tried. “I’ll be so good for you, you’ll see-”

“You want a reward for good behavior you haven’t given me yet?” Dr. Wells said, in some amusement. “Now now, clever boy, you can do better than that.”

Cisco drew in lungfuls of air, trying to clear his head. Dr. Wells clearly had something in mind. What was he looking for? What was the right answer?

“Because you’re too good to me and I don’t deserve you?” he guessed.

“It wouldn’t be good for you if I let you get away with bad behavior,” Dr. Wells argued. “One more try, then I’m giving you your instructions for the evening and hanging up.”

“No!” Cisco protested. He fell forward onto his free hand, humping frantically at the pillow. “Please, please-”

“Tell me why I should give you more,” Dr. Wells commanded. “Come on now, put that beautiful brain of yours to work.”

Fear was bubbling up in the pit of his stomach, mingling with the pleasure until he could barely think through his desperation. He forced himself to slow the rhythm of his hips -- not stopping, never stopping, not until he was told -- and  _ think. _

“Because,” he swallowed, hoping this was the response Dr. Wells was looking for, “because punishment is about what you want, not what I want, and if you hang up then you can’t hear what you’re doing to me. What I’m feeling. How bad I want you, and only you.”

“My brilliant boy,” Dr. Wells sighed. “My sweet, clever, perfect Cisco. You always know just what I want.”

Arousal spiked through Cisco at the praise, his chest tight with pride that threatened to burst out of his rib cage. He loved when Dr. Wells got like this, all tender and caring, with that wonderful note of adoration in his voice. It made Cisco feel more accomplished than anything else ever had.

“What shall I do for you, precious thing?” he asked teasingly. “What should I give you?”

“Please,” Cisco whined, his hips speeding up again, “let me touch my cock.”

“No,” Dr. Wells said firmly, then pointedly ignored Cisco’s answering whine. “Keep grinding on that pillow, pretty boy; it’s your best friend tonight.”

Cisco hung his head and increased his rhythm, thrusting harshly against the pillow. It was starting to fold in on itself.

“Run your fingers over the back of your neck,” Dr. Wells instructed. “Drag your nails gently up into your hairline and massage your scalp.”

Cisco straightened onto his knees again and did as he was cold, combing his fingers through his hair backwards. To his surprise a delicious little shiver ran down his spine, mingling with the sensations in his groin and making his cock twitch.

“That feels good,” Cisco told him, repeating the action.

“I know,” Dr. Wells said wickedly. “Now pull on your hair.”

Cisco seized a fistful of his own hair and tugged, forcing his head backwards. That too sent lust through his system like an electric shock, magnifying the pleasure he was already feeling.

“Keep doing that,” Dr. Wells said, and Cisco could practically hear the smile. “Play with yourself.”

Cisco obeyed, alternating between massaging his scalp and pulling his hair. It was something more, something to push him closer to the edge, but like the pillow it was nothing more than a tease.

“Please,” he whispered, hardly daring to ask for anything else. “Please-”

“Hush,” Dr. Wells interrupted before he could get out another word. “Keep going.”

Cisco whined, but obeyed.

“When you get home I’m going to make you do this again,” Dr. Wells told him, “only this time you’re going to be naked, and I’m going to touch you.”

“H-how?” Cisco wondered, already picturing it.

“First I’m going to run my finger, just one finger, down your spine,” Dr. Wells began.

Cisco shivered. He could almost feel the cool fingertip on his overheated skin, traveling down his back like a drop of ice water.

“Then I’m going to run my fingers ever so lightly along your sides,” Dr. Wells went on, and Cisco let out a little whimpering giggle. They both knew he was ticklish there, and Dr. Wells had exploited that fact to leave Cisco panting and breathless on more than one occasion.

“Then I’m going to pull your hair up off your neck and kiss your hairline,” Dr. Wells continued, and he sounded a little short of breath himself. Belatedly Cisco realized he must be pleasuring himself as well.

Cisco gathered as much of his hair as he could in one and a tugged upward, pulling on the sensitive strands on his neck. He imagined little butterfly kisses and nibbles along his hairline, and he could almost feel warm lips caressing his skin, sharp teeth nipping at him.

He was so  _ close _ he wanted to cry.

“And then,” Dr. Wells laughed darkly, “I’m going to take hold of your thighs. I’m going to pull them apart and hold you open so that I can  _ see _ you rutting at my silk sheets like an animal.”

“ _ Dr. Wells, _ ” Cisco breathed, his vision going out of focus as he felt his climax building. He was  _ almost _ there, and he wanted to touch his cock more than anything in the goddamn world.

“Come for me,” Dr. Wells ordered, and that simple command was all Cisco needed to send himself over the edge. He made the most ridiculous little whimpering sound as his vision whited out, his hips still working madly at the pillow as he came in his slacks.

He collapsed forward onto the bed, breathing hard. He heard a grunt on the other end of the line that probably meant that Dr. Wells had also finished, and he couldn’t help the little glow of satisfaction at knowing that he’d also made Dr. Wells come from hundreds of miles away.

After a few minutes though, Dr. Wells spoke again, even though his breathing had not yet returned to normal.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Cisco groaned, not wanting to move from the comfortable bed in the afterglow of his orgasm, but did as he was told. He swayed on his feet, but stayed upright.

“Are you thirsty?” Dr. Wells asked.

Cisco could not begin to fathom the reason for that question. “I guess?” he said uncertainly.

“Is there a vending machine on your floor?” Dr. Wells wanted to know.

“There’s one in the lobby,” Cisco offered.

“Perfect,” said Dr. Wells, his voice gone all smug and devious again. “Go get something from it.”

“Sure,” said Cisco, still confused. “Just let me get changed-”

“No,” Dr. Wells interrupted. “Like this.”

Cisco’s mouth went dry. So  _ this _ was the punishment, the reason why Dr. Wells had made him leave his clothes on, the reason he’d been allowed an orgasm even though he’d been bad. All that stuff about leaving him humping the pillow until dawn had been misdirection; Dr. Wells had always meant for him to come in his pants. He looked down at himself, and sure enough there was a large and very noticeable wet patch on the front of his slacks.

“Please,” he said softly.

“Tisk tisk Cisco,” Dr. Wells replied, “you’re not arguing with me are you? And after I was so generous too.”

“No,” said Cisco hurriedly, knowing there was no way out.

“I’d like to go to bed sometime soon Cisco,” Dr. Wells told him, “but I can’t until I know you’re properly hydrated.”

Cisco took a deep breath. Then, making sure he had his keycard -- he was  _ not _ getting locked out like this -- he opened his hotel room door and stepped out.

The hallway was, thankfully, deserted, as was the elevator. He was on the fifth floor, but to his relief the elevator didn’t stop between there and the lobby, so he was able to make the journey completely alone.

“You’re doing so well pretty boy,” Dr. Wells encouraged.

“Yes Sir,” Cisco concurred, feeling queasy.

When he reached the lobby though, his luck ran out. The vending machine was on the far side of the room, and there was a young couple checking in at the front desk.

“There’s someone here!” he hissed into the phone.

“Ignore them,” Dr. Wells instructed. “Go get what you came for.”

Cisco squared his shoulders, and keeping his eyes fixed on the vending machine, made his way quickly across the room.

Thankfully no one paid him any attention, and he put in his dollar and selected an orange Fanta, balancing the phone between his shoulder and the side of his head as he did so. When the bottle fell to the bottom of the machine he stooped to pick it up, then straightened, still facing the machine.

“Okay,” he said, “I have something.”

“Good,” said Dr. Wells pleasantly. “Nutmeg.”

Cisco put one hand to the vending machine to steady himself and struggled to stifle his whimper as his mind was transported back to Dr. Wells’ bedroom, to how it felt to have his hands tied behind his back, his ass stuffed full of a too-large toy while his boss fucked his mouth. He looked down, to find himself once more painfully hard.

“No fair,” Cisco breathed into the phone.

“Cisco,” Dr. Wells admonished, “are you arguing with me?”

“Yes I’m arguing!” Cisco shot back. “You can’t make me walk across this building with a raging stiffy!”

“Are you planning to stay there all night?” Dr. Wells wondered. “Or are you going to bring yourself off right there in the lobby?”

Cisco groaned, letting his head thunk against the machine.

“My perfect boy,” Dr. Wells cooed. “I  _ know _ you can do this for me.”

Cisco hesitated, then-

“Promise?” he asked.

“I know you better than you know yourself, sweet boy,” Dr. Wells assured him. “You can do this.”

He waited until the couple to finish checking in, looking over his shoulders to make sure the lobby was deserted before he turned around. The elevator was empty again, and he only passed one person in the hallway back to his room, a scantily clad woman smoking a cigarette who paid him no attention.

“Alright,” he said once he was back inside. “Mission accomplished.”

“That’s my good boy,” Dr. Wells crooned. “You did  _ so  _ well for me, and I’m so proud of you. This more than makes up for your earlier behavior.”

Cisco sighed. It was impossible to stay angry with Dr. Wells, when he knew exactly the words to make Cisco glow with pride. Cisco knew there was nothing he could do anyway. He didn’t have it in him to leave his lover, not when Dr. Wells knew him inside and out like he did. At the end of the day, Cisco knew who he belonged to.

“Does that mean I can come again?” Cisco asked wearily.

“Of course,” Dr. Wells replied.

“Will you help?”

“However you want.”

Cisco thought for a moment. “Can you tell me about some of the toys from your toybox we haven’t played with yet?”

“Always so curious,” Dr. Wells said approvingly. “Luckily, I have a few things I was planning to try when you got home.”

**Author's Note:**

> the author would like to make it known that this story depicts an abusive relationship. eobard is using his position of power over cisco, both professionally and intimately, to coerce him into doing things he doesn't want to do. this is not healthy. this is not safe. this is not a proper bdsm relationship. this is someone using the trappings of bdsm to create a facsimile of a healthy relationship in order to entrap a victim. that is all.


End file.
